


Ling Ling Pocky Hours

by KuroNeko414



Series: love confessions [4]
Category: Breddy, Twosetviolin, Video Blogging RPF, twoset violin
Genre: Best Friends to Lovers, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, The Pocky Game, pocky day, sharing one brain cell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:07:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27505048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuroNeko414/pseuds/KuroNeko414
Summary: The Pocky Game but as a Ling Ling WorkoutGifted to fishtofu15 - they're an awesome twoset fanartist on IG and are also apparently a reader of my work, thanks for being friends with me!!!
Relationships: Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Series: love confessions [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1932229
Comments: 9
Kudos: 38





	Ling Ling Pocky Hours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fishtofu15](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishtofu15/gifts).



11/11

“Hey guys, we got a new IntEreStIng video for you today!” Brett announced, rocking back and forth in his seat. “As some of you may know,” Eddy took over, “today is pocky day.”

“What is pocky, you ask? It’s a Japanese snack that’s like a, uh, wafer stick thing covered in some kind of flavor like chocolate or strawberry,” Eddy explained.

“The challenge is that two people will eat one pocky from opposite sides,” Eddy continued, cringing slightly as Brett wiggled his eyebrows at the camera.

“Of course,” Brett interrupted, “we’re gonna put a musician spin on it.” Brett pulled out a small pouch from beside him while Eddy pulled out a box of strawberry pocky from his side. They placed them on the table. Brett and Eddy shared a look and burst out laughing. 

“We’re really gonna do this huh?” Brett said, wiping laughter from his eyes. Eddy nodded, aiming a finger heart at the camera. Editor-san will probably put some pink filter or whatever whacky lovey-dovey thing they think of.

“Okay!” Brett said loudly, taking a breath to regain composure. Eddy stifled his laughter best he could. He looks very red.

“So the name of the game is Ling Ling Pocky Hours. The rules are this: one of us will be pulling a piece of paper with a name of a piece from this pouch.” Brett gestured to the small cloth bag. “We don’t know what pieces there are here, by the way,” Eddy interjected briefly. Brett continued, “Then we’re gonna hold a piece of pocky in our mouths. The goal is to eat the pocky while playing the piece, and whoever messes up first  _ OR  _ flinches away first loses.” Neither knew it but both of them were thinking:  _ we’re so fricking screwed. _

But that’s fine. Do it for the views. Nobody needs to know about feelings, amiright?

  
  


(They share a brain cell so much and yet don’t even realize they’re thinking of the same exact thing, smh)

  
  


“Wait, you forgot one more thing,” Eddy said. “There’s a point system. There’s 6 pieces, whoever flinches the least and keeps on playing gets the points.”

“Loser has to post a story!” Brett yells into the ceiling. Editor-san’s probably gonna comment on that later, poor neighbors. Eddy’s face became marred with regret. Whose idea was this anyway?

Oh right, it was Eddy’s idea. Genius.

Of course, Brett was on board like the reckless lunatic that he is. Oh well, the camera’s rolling, might as well make this good.

Onward with the game!

They moved the table out of the way and had their violins ready.

Brett picked out the first piece—Elgar’s Salut d’amour,  _ of fricking course, all the uhh BAE? Breddy?  _ Whatever, their ‘shippers’ are gonna have a field day, that’s for sure. They’ll be bombarded with fanart and tweets and whatever else media their fans create. Editor-san’s gonna fan the flames high, too.

Eddy tries not to be too excited as he took the pocky and placed it in his mouth. He waited for Brett.

And realized that the height difference was gonna be a  _ bit _ of an issue.

_ The show must go on. _

Brett looked resigned, placed the violin at his shoulder and nibbled on the uncovered part of the pocky. Eddy’s face filled his vision— _ too close, too close. _ Brett felt dizzy.

They breathed into the piece in sync, pulling the notes from their strings as though they were one player, one violin, one bow. Sweet music filled the room, just the right amount of sweetness, like plain milk tea. Calm. Normal.

Then Eddy started nibbling on his end and Brett felt panic spreading through his body, from his feet, up his legs, and it’s too warm. Brett tries to nibble from his side as well, small nibbles while Eddy gets centimeters closer and closer, features getting more blurred. Brett can’t lose, no.

But Eddy’s halfway through, and the panic reached Brett’s arms, his wrist shook and his bow skidded right as Eddy’s lips were about 3cm from his. Adrenaline rushed to Brett’s head and he let go, squeezed his eyes shut at the loss of a point.

Eddy swallowed the rest of the pocky, laughing as though unbothered, as if he’s never thought of feeling those lips in the night, as if a careless breeze. But Brett glimpses; the tips of his ears are red, his breathing is slightly ragged, his grin isn’t that stable. He’s nervous too, and Brett takes solace in that. Even in the most uncomfortable circumstances, they’re always in it together.

Eddy got the first point out of six.

He got to pick the next piece out of the pouch while Brett mentally prepared himself, arming his mouth with the strawberry end of the pocky. Eddy glanced at him as he pulled out the paper.  _ Aww, he’s pouting, how cute. Soft. Babie, brettybae. _

“Bach Partita No. 3,” Eddy trailed off, showing the paper to the camera. They already know it doesn’t focus on the paper, and editor-san will have to save their bums as per usual, but the extra time doesn’t hurt.

Eddy took position, “Dude, I should get like a stool. Doesn’t your neck hurt?” Brett said against the pocky in his mouth. Eddy laughed soundlessly. He shook his head and put the violin to play, Brett putting the bow ready as well. Eddy took the pocky in his mouth and round 2, here they go.

Brett chomped about a third of the pocky, surprising Eddy, which caused some questionable rhythm. Brett wiggled his eyebrows, biting more and more. Eddy felt smaller than usual, which is funny, considering he’s pretty much towering over Brett. They’re just trying to determine who’s the top at this point. Eddy’s got a bit of dignity left.

Eddy takes the last bite and  _ barely  _ grazes over Brett’s lips, but Brett turned away fast enough. “Hah! I win again!” Eddy danced, ignoring Brett’s indignant  _ oi what no-!  _ He tried to ignore his heart going fortissimo in his ears, beating rubato all over the place. It was exhilarating.

Meanwhile, Brett has decided: he’s gonna win this. Sexuality and reputation be damned, he almost had it last round, who cares if he’s having butterflies in his damn stomach just because of a bit of contact?  _ Digest them butterflies, pizz boi!  _ He didn’t endure ten years of pining just to fall to a stupid snack challenge!

Brett drew the next round’s piece: Navarra by Sarasate. Well crap it’s their piece.

_ It’s their piece. _

Why must Ling Ling be so cruel today? Why does he keep drawing the cheesy pieces? Frick. Frick, frick, frick. Guess he’ll just have to weather through this. Like the past decade, ffs.

Eddy’s already waiting so off to round 3.

They play the first line, the familiar rising notes, and like the two halves of a whole idiot that they are, they both chomp after the first highest notes grinning stupidly. Anyone else that has eyes besides them can see how they’re perfectly made for each other. They’re literal soulmates. Look up “soulmate” in a dictionary and you’ll find a picture of them staring at each other, probably. Because staring at each other was a valid answer to the question “What is the meaning of life?” They’re like matching socks—functionable on their own but just perfect together.

They get to the chords in sync, already knowing their parts, getting lost in the music and almost forgetting the task at hand. Almost, but Brett is determined. He chomped the entire thing within a measure, and Eddy flinched back. Brett rejoiced;  _ he still has dignity! Whoooo!  _ One on two, three left to go.

They played Hungarian Dance No. 5, one of Brett’s favorite pieces, and he got that point. Eddy got quieter, smiled a bit smaller, laughed a bit softer. His eyes are screaming yearning, longing, tenderness, but Brett wasn’t looking. Anyone else would see. But it looks like all the sightreading really made both of them go blind.

Brett was grinning in turmoil, laughing at appropriate times, but how will this end? Is Brett going to take that jump? He’s already ventured far enough. It’s just that one daunting leap. He inched as close to the edge as he could, peering off the void of uncertainty. What if’s echoed in a dissonant cacophony;  _ what if Eddy doesn’t like him back? What if they lose their dynamic? What if he loses Eddy, his best friend, his business partner, his confidante, partner in crime? What if he loses TwoSet, everything they built together? What if he leaves, and they just become two strangers who didn’t practice enough and knew each other too well? What if—  _

“—rth to Brett Yang!” Brett zoned back in from his spiralling stupor to a concerned Eddy. “You okay there?”

Brett nods, “Editor-san, you know the drill,” Eddy said, his gaze fixed on Brett.

“You good now?” Eddy inquired. His hand was trying to reach out, tentative and uncertain, lingering with a bow still in its grasp. Brett smiled knowing full well Eddy knows he’s not. “Yeah, gotta finish the video.”

If Eddy wanted to object, he didn’t say anything.

“Next piece is…” Eddy pulled out a piece of paper “-Clair de Lune, by my boi, DebUssy,” Eddy announced. Brett was spacing out, which meant he was thinking about something. Things are serious when Brett’s thinking. They should talk but Eddy can’t force it out of Brett, and he’s one stubborn fricker so better just finish the video now.

Round five. This time, one of Eddy’s favorites. Eddy got the point because Brett sped up, but then again, this piece of repertoire is second-nature to Eddy. Oh well,  _ all’s fair in love and war. _

Three to two, last round- “Wait,” Brett stopped Eddy, whose hand froze mid-way in the pouch. “There’s six rounds, if we tie, what are we gonna do for the tie breaker?” Eddy looked down at the ground in thought. Brett traced the silhouette of Eddy’s head, taking note of his cheekbones, the shimmer of the golden frames, the messy hair.

Eddy snapped his fingers at Brett’s direction, “Shuffle your Spotify playlist and we’ll play whatever comes up first.” Brett made a face of agreement and last (second to last?) round time.

Eddy fished out the last piece of paper and groaned, causing Brett to laugh and ask. “It’s the Sibelius Violin Concerto,” Eddy said in a resigned voice. The murmur of  _ first movement  _ was drowned by Brett’s cheering, chanting “simp sibelius!” with intentional voice cracks and shredding.

So this’ll either possibly pull Brett’s fears to the light, or give him two chances. Screw it, he’s taking his double chance—Eddy’s got three while he has two. Eddy’s got three while he has two.  _ Eddy’s got three while he has two _ (sounds like the amount of brain cells they could’ve had if they don’t share one brain cell between them). 

Brett moved the pocky in his mouth with his teeth in anticipation. He’s gonna do it. He’s finally gonna do it. After ten years, he’s gonna kiss this bastard that stuck with him through thick and thin. He’s gonna do it.

Eddy took his place at the other end, the strawberry covered end, staring straight through at Brett. There’s something new there. Something firm. Something sturdy. Something like stubbornness. There’s a resolve there, and it makes Brett hopeful. But Brett decided he’s gonna do it, regardless of what Eddy’s gonna do.

The orchestral part comes in from Brett, preparing for Eddy’s entrance. Brett’s excited for Eddy, for Eddy to show off  _ his  _ piece, for Brett to be able to give back the support he received in the Tchaik drop. But for now, he’s gonna chomp the pocky.

Brett takes a bite. Eddy takes one as well. They play on for a bit more, neither making a move. Eddy was biding his time; Brett was watching him play, remembering the amount of frustrated practice for the past 8, 9 months or so. The arrangements they worked on for the orchestral part. The 2am practice sessions, dark circles under his eyes, passing out then waking up and already hearing Sibelius playing somewhere in the house again.

They take the next bite together. Eddy’s eyes start to flutter close and Brett’s heart fluttered along,  _ is he gonna do it? Is he? _

Eddy played one more measure, two, three. The count ticked off in Brett’s head mutely, anxiety was pooling at his gut, weighing down at his elbow, his shoulder’s getting tired. Brett closed his eyes.  _ Should he still do it? _

Brett takes another bite and— 

  
  


Soft lips.

  
  


Brett pulled back in shock, bits of pocky irritating him in his mouth, disbelief dancing in his eyes, sound fizzled in his ears. He’s delusional, he thought, but he looked at Eddy, sorrowful eyes mismatching the grin he wore.

“Ha, I won,” Eddy said at a normal volume. His voice cracked the slightest bit and Brett felt his heart splinter at the sight, mixing in a dirty mess with the happiness bursting from the fountain within him. Eddy kissed him.

Eddy kissed him.

_ Eddy kissed him. _

_ HOLY SH- _

“Okokokok, okay, okAy,” Brett said, slowly hyperventilating. “Eddy, stop the camera, we need to talk.” Brett put his violin away, his hands shook, because holy tiger mom of sacrilegious bubble bee,  _ Eddy likes him back??? _

Eddy turned off the camera. Brett beckoned for Eddy to follow him. They sat on the table, legs dangling off the edge. Brett’s still at the edge but it looked like the void glimmered for a bit.

“So…” Brett starts.

“So…” Eddy mirrors.

They look at each other and break into laughter. “So, Mr. Eddy Chen, is there something you’d like to confess?” Brett says with a smirk, barely keeping his composure. He sounds like some posh debate candidate. Eddy looks down, starts to fiddle with his fingers, bites his lip, and damn if that isn’t adorable. 

“Candidate Eddy Chen, you have one minute and thirty seconds,” Brett says in a mock announcer voice, pretending to hold an invisible microphone, earning a chuckle from Eddy. “Alright, I may have been harboring some kinda, sorta, maybe very intense, uh,” Eddy drew the strings of the hoodie tight. 

“ImayhavebeencrushingonyousincehighschoolbutIdidn’twannaloseourfriendshipsoIdidn’tsayanythingforadecadeandalsobecauseIwasscaredofbeingrejectedbymybestfriendandfamily,” Eddy confessed in a single breath. Somehow Brett got all of that but woah, who knew Eddy has some chance at being a flautist?

So. Eddy has liked him since high school. But didn’t wanna ruin their friendship. And didn’t wanna be rejected by Brett. Or by his family.

“I love you, Eddy.”

Eddy turned and looked at him, slowly loosening the hoodie strings. “Really?”

Brett chuckled, “Yeah, really. I mean, I also liked you since high school. I was just a plain coward.”

“Um… I love you too,” Eddy replied in a small voice.

“So,” Brett continued. “Can I... kiss you? Minus the pocky, we can eat that later,” he said waving his hand off.

Eddy stood in front of Brett, and they kissed, finally, after a damn decade. They’re gonna continue to do everything together. But this time, with some more physical affection and another layer of love.

Let’s hope they’ll be able to explain to editor-san why they’ll have to skip a day of posting a video.

(They’re probably gonna understand, they’ve been waiting for this too)

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So I was like hmm I should upload something, and this just popped in my mind since people on tsvtwt were talking abt pocky day. I was somehow motivated to write this within one day right before pocky day so hooray we got this! Was gonna mention the sub count in that part where they were playing the Sibelius but I got distracted and forgot to add it and I didnt wanna change it around when editing soooo I'll just put it here  
> They are at 2.91M subs so we only got like.... 90k subs left wooooo! Simp Sibelius!!! Anyways, I actually had some pocky throughout the day - had the crunchy strawberry and almond crush ones, I guess I like the cronch. This one was fun to write bc I got to lovingly make fun of them a lot, and I may have said this before but the screenshot of them staring at each other with the question What is the meaning of life will forever be my #1 pic of them. I mean, imagine being able to do pretty much everything in your life together? _Together!_ like srsly I am jealous of their friendship. Anyways, hope you liked this work, comments are appreciated, hope y'all have a good day!


End file.
